Midnight Eyes ✵ Phan

*28*

Dan woke up with the weight of the world on his head. His vision swam and his body trembled as cold metal brushed against his frail skin. Looking down in panic, he saw a doctor- dressed awkwardly stereotypically, like he had seen on TV- examining his stomach, the magnifying glass making his scars prominent and contorted. It was only a small burn mark, something that proved it happened. Nothing more. But, under the dark stare, it suddenly felt like so much more.

And what were they examining the burn mark for?

Had it stopped his work?

Where was he again?

The training room. He recognised that, at last, as his vision slowly became more astute over minutes of quiet chatter and medical jargon he didn't have the concentration to understand- or the education.

He picked out the few he could.

'Anorexia'.

'Starvation'.

'Treatment'.

He winced at each one, gaining the doctor's attention over time- the tight bun on her head, stretching her face back revealing the flaky foundation after days of wear. The woman didn't look like she got much sleep.

She pursed her lips, the red lipstick flaking off too- the dryness of her lips made him squirm as he remembered what it felt like first-hand. His must have been worse, his was caused by dehydration and not just neglect.

'Are you awake, little guy?' The nickname made him gag, despite the soft tone. The woman certainly meant no harm. She was young, he could tell, but naive and ageing far earlier than she should have been. Stress. Dan was having the same except his was due to far worse circumstances. That couldn't devalue her struggle, though, and with that, he tried to be as polite as possible. This girl meant no harm and was trying to help.

Phil flashed through his mind.

'What's happening?' He slurred, the art of moving his mouth much harder than expected. He suddenly noticed the dryness of his throat and mouth, what had happened since he last...

Since what? He couldn't remember any recent events. Darkness, he remembered that- the black spots in his vision. And then, oh, the realisation hit him.

He had passed out.

Whilst performing.

In front of a crowd.

His body tensed, his back arching forwards, away from the cold metal of the inspection table. He wondered why they didn't use a proper hospital bed. Oh, wait, he remembered- they were animals too, weren't they?

Dan had almost forgotten his own struggles whilst trying to make light of others. He sighed, his body giving up and collapsing back down, despite the fear of punishment.

He didn't have the energy for this.

Anorexia.

Was this the lack of food he had been eating? But anorexia was when you did that to lose weight right?

Why was he suddenly hearing the words 'control'?

The panic seized him again as his body recovered, this time far more violently as he pushed himself off the bed and down to the floor, with little energy to stand on his two legs, letting him fall.

But, unfortunately, his plan barely had time to play through. As soon as his arms had pushed himself up- with far more effort than it should have taken- he was being pinned back down again by two nurses he hadn't quite noticed earlier.

Surely he should have known there were others, the doctor wasn't just talking to nobody, even if there wasn't anything he heard that indicated somebody was talking back.